


1000 Cranes

by Kawahime (RiversEnd)



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Origami, References to Depression, Separations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:21:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22840909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiversEnd/pseuds/Kawahime
Summary: Things go sour within the Japanese underworld, and Akihito is forced to leave Asami for his protection.
Relationships: Asami Ryuichi/Takaba Akihito
Comments: 104
Kudos: 352





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome, lovelies! Please enjoy another of my creations.  
> Set after the conclusion of Vol. 6, this goes AU beyond that. (Originally posted in 2011)

**Prologue**

“You Bastard!” Akihito snapped. “You just got me moved in! And now you’re telling me you want me to leave?!”

Asami growled in frustration. “Would you just shut up and listen to me!” Asami shouted.

Akihito stopped, taken aback by what he had just heard. Never had Asami lost his temper with him like this. Sure, he had annoyed the older man time and time again during their year-and-a-half long cat-and-mouse game they called a relationship. But no matter what, Asami had never lost his temper with him. The yakuza was always a tightly wound ball of complete control. The fact that he had just raised his voice to Akihito scared him more than anything and silenced the photographer.

“I don’t _want_ you to leave,” Asami continued, the control slipping back in to place. “But right now, you _need_ to leave.”

“Why?” the boy asked softly wanting to understand. There were unexpected tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Who would have thought that just a few simple words could wrench his heart so mercilessly.

“The less you know, the better,” was the only answer he received.

“Then I’m not leaving,” the young photographer said with a pout and stormed out of the apartment.

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~

A week later… the bullets started flying.

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~


	2. Part One

**The Beginning…**

Akihito stood in the foyer of his new apartment, a large suitcase at his feet. The single piece of luggage contained all of his life. Or at least it was all that his life was now. The bulk of his things had been left back at Asami’s along with all of his cameras.  
  
“I’m home,” he called out sadly to the empty flat.  
  
With a small sigh he sat down on the small step, untied and removed his sneakers, and set them down in their new place.  
  
Without any other sound, he stood up, picked up his suitcase and walked through the sparsely furnished apartment towards the bedroom. He threw the suitcase down on the lonely bed with annoyance and opened it up to begin unpacking. To his surprise, his favorite and most precious camera lay snuggly packed in the middle of the clothes, a note tucked in next to it. Smiling, he picked up the note, hoping to see that familiar, beautifully crafted handwriting. His smile faded slightly upon seeing Kirishima’s not so pretty scrawl.  
  
_Though it is against both my orders and my better judgement to put this here, I know how much you value not only this camera, but your skills as a photographer. I also know how much it would pain you were anything to happen to this heirloom. You are under no circumstances to pick up photography as a form of employment. If Asami-sama were to know that I gave you this, he would have both our heads. Please understand that you are to remain completely hidden until Asami-sama can come for you. Until then, keep this safe. And stay out of trouble. If that is indeed possible._  
  
_Kirishima_  
  
Akihito smiled. It was just like old glasses-guy to do something like this. When he first met Kirishima, Akihito would have thought something like this would have been completely out of character for the stoic man. However, upon getting to know him better over the past year-an-a-half, Akihito had come to know the man did have a thoughtful side that he rarely showed in public.  
  
“I’ll try,” he whispered in response.  
  
Setting the note and the camera on top of the slightly worn dresser set against the wall in his new room, he turned around to begin unpacking what little now symbolized his new life. A life alone.   
  
“Damn it, Asami!” he cursed. “Why the hell did it have to come to this?”  
  
Yanking open the top drawer he threw the offending articles of clothing inside. The dresser wasn’t exactly to his liking, but it was better than nothing. This was only a temporary place to live, anyway. Or at least that was what he kept telling himself. Once things cooled down in Tokyo, and the infighting among Asami’s subordinates was settled, the yakuza would come for him and take him home. Until then, he had to make this work. And he had been lucky enough to find a decently furnished apartment in a decent neighborhood.   
  
Throwing another group of socks in the drawer, he noticed a colorful stack of origami paper, flawless and unfolded, carefully bound together so as to prevent their marring and their flying all over the drawer.  
  
“Huh…” he mumbled. “Who ever lived here before must have forgotten them.” Leaving the papers in the corner of the drawer, he pushed the thought of them aside and finished unpacking his suitcase.  
  
That done, it didn’t take long, he left the one room in the apartment he had absolutely no desire to be in, and collapsed on the small couch in the living room. He didn’t know what was worse, the fact that he already missed Asami, or the fact that the Bastard had become so much a part of his life that the yakuza was missed in the first place.  
  
“It couldn’t be helped,” he whispered to himself. The apart thing, he reminded himself, not the missing Asami part.  
  
The small rumble in his stomach reminded him that it had been a while since lunch. Looking across the small room into the kitchen area he had no desire to cook, either. Thinking that he had seen a small café somewhere in the neighborhood on his way in, he rose from the couch, grabbed his new keys, and left his new apartment in search of food.  
  
It didn’t take long to find the café he remembered. It was a small place. Cozy. It also had just the right atmosphere where he didn’t feel so self-conscious eating alone. There were several, in fact, that filled the small bar-like counter and a few of the tables that were eating alone. Once finished, Akihito paid his ticket and left, his eyes briefly catching the ‘Help Wanted’ flier on his way out.  
  
_I might come back_ , he thought. _A job might be what I need to keep my mind off this whole damned situation. God knows I can’t sit around that apartment all day and do nothing. I need something to keep myself occupied or I’ll go crazy._

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~

**Crane 1…**

Akihito woke up after a restless night. He had trouble getting to sleep in the large, lonely bed. And once he finally did fall asleep, his dreams were plagued with images from the day before.  
  
_“This is why I told you to leave, you fool,” Asami hissed in pain, his hand covering a bullet wound in his shoulder. “It’s no longer safe for you in Tokyo. Even my power to protect you has weakened, though it pains me to admit it.”_  
  
_“But…” Akihito tired to interrupt._  
  
_“No! No ‘buts’ Akihito. You need to leave. This is an internal problem that I have to deal with. As long as you are here, you will be in danger. And since I no longer know who I can trust within my own organization, you have to give up everything of this life until I’ve sorted this out. Now go. Kirishima has already packed a bag for you. There’ll be enough cash for you to find a decent apartment and to live off of for at least six months. More if you don’t go crazy spending it.”_  
  
_Akihito didn’t have a chance to respond as Kirishima pulled him away from the yakuza and threw him in the back seat of a car. As they drove away, Kirishima passed an envelope over the seat to him._  
  
_“This is your new identity. Your real one is compromised at the moment, so don’t ever use it. Not until Asami comes for you.”_  
  
_“But how will he know where to find me?” the boy asked, bewildered by the whole situation._  
  
_“Don’t worry,” the other man reassured. “It’s Asami-sama. Don’t doubt his ability to find what is most important to him.”_  
  
_“Am I really that important to him?”_  
  
_“Do you really have to ask that? Do you think he would go to this amount of trouble if he didn’t?”_  
  
_“But he’s sending me away…”_  
  
_“Only because he would rather you live with out him than die in his arms, or worse, die alone when he could have saved you.”_  
  
Groaning, Akihito rolled over and threw the covers off, rising from the bed. After a quick shower, he rummaged through his top drawer, half-heartedly grabbing a clean pair of underwear and some socks. In his search, his fingers brushed against the stack of origami paper he had found there the night before. Randomly grabbing what he needed, he picked up the papers as well and set them atop the dresser next to his camera.  
  
After dressing he closed the door on the lonely bedroom. It was time for breakfast. Setting the package of papers on the table, he remembered there was no food in the house. With a sigh, he grabbed his keys and headed for the corner convenience store, all the while his mind kept wandering back to the origami paper, wondering why he was so fixated on it.

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~

With breakfast finished, Akihito continued to sit on the floor, leaning against the couch, his thumb fanning over the corner of the papers in front of him. With out much thought, he sat forward and untied the ribbon holding the stack together. Lifting the top paper from the stack he pulled it towards him and began folding. Before he realized it, he was turning a bright red crane around in his fingers. The color reminded him of Asami.  
  
It was the color of rage. The color of blood.  
  
The color of passion.  
  
Further examining the small bird in his hand, he was suddenly possessed with the urge to crush it. Cranes were supposed to be for luck, for happiness. Yet he had neither. Here he was, alone in a new apartment with a fake name, half a country away from his lover…  
  
His mind stumbled over that thought. Were they really lovers? Did Asami really feel that way about him? The man had promised to come for him once everything was cleared up and it was safe again. Until then he had no choice but to hide and to put his trust in the yakuza.  
  
It was so unfair.  
  
Then again, maybe Asami would come for him tomorrow.  
  
With sudden inspiration he got up, rummaged through his backpack, and found what he was looking for, a pen. Going back to the small bird, he carefully flattened it down and wrote a small “1” underneath its wing. Once finished, he set the pen down and gently pulled the crane’s wings, expanding its body again to look like a bird in flight.  
  
He set it in the middle of the table and prayed for luck.

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~


	3. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akihito is slowly adjusting to his life alone.

**Crane 15…**

Akihito woke in the now familiar bed. It was still lonely, but it was a little less painful. Not much less, but some. Gradually the pain was being replaced by a numbness wrapped in a frail hope.  
  
He rolled over, wiping the sleep from his eyes, and gazed at the small blue bird laying on the pillow next to him. It was a poor substitute, but he clung to the small hope that one day his wish would come true. One day he would roll over and into those strong arms and no longer feel alone.  
  
It wasn’t long after he began living here alone that he realized one crucial fact that had escaped him. He was in love with that yakuza bastard. He also discovered that it wasn’t the sex that he missed. It was that damned smirk. Those piercing, arrogant eyes. But most of all it was those strong arms that would encircle him making him feel warm and safe.  
  
Looking at the clock he has an hour-and-a-half before the start of his shift, just enough time for a shower, breakfast, and to run a few errands before going to work. He picked up the crane on his way to the bathroom. As he passed the dresser, he set it down with its brothers that sat atop it in a flock of bright colors and beautiful patterns.  
  
After his quick shower and a modest breakfast, Akihito sat on the floor in front of his small table and pulled another sheet of the thin paper towards him. Today it was purple. Not a bright purple, ad not a pastel purple either. It was a deep purple the color of royalty, a dark, passionate color that that spoke of wealth and power.  
  
Again, he thought of Asami. He hadn’t heard from the older man. But that was to be expected. Part of why he had to leave so secretly was due to the traitor deep inside Asami’s organization. Apparently the fallout from the casino ship in Macao and the returning of Fei Long’s deed for his life had left several within the organization disgruntled. The word had become that Asami was weak, unfit for the position that he held. What resulted was a two-pronged attack directed at Asami for his power and at Akihito both for the distraction it would cause Asami and because he was the ‘source’ of Asami’s disgrace.  
  
All of that culminated in Akihito’s current situation living alone under an assumed name that no one, other than Kirishima and Asami knew. He had no contact with the yakuza whatsoever. It was far too dangerous. So he had no way of knowing if the older man was even alive or not. Akihito could only hope that not having seen anything on the news was a good thing.  
  
Turning the now complete crane over, he picked up the pen he had sitting with the stack of origami paper, and wrote another number on its wing. It was a small bit of hope and a prayer that tomorrow he wouldn’t wake up alone.  
  
“15”

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~

**Crane 96…**

  
Three months and no news.   
  
Akihito had settled into his new life. Routine was now beginning to take hold of his daily routine. His temporary job at the café had become permanent.   
  
He sighed. Who knew he would ever become so damn predictable. _It can’t be helped_ , he kept telling himself as he shrugged into his work uniform. There was still plenty of money left from what Asami had sent him, but he didn’t want to spend it if he didn’t have to. He would rather work for his keep. Besides, there was no guarantee that Asami would come for him within the six months that had been implied. He would rather work now and use that. This way, if something did happen, and he had to leave, he would have the funds to relocate if needed.   
  
“What was that sigh for?” a voice behind him asked, startling him. “Damn, Nakashima-kun, you don’t have to jump out of your skin like that. It’s not like I’m some weird stalker or something.”  
  
Akihito laughed nervously at the joke. The other man didn’t know just how true to his life that statement rang. Until recently it had been full of weird, random stalkers and other types of villains.  
  
“Sorry, Shimizu-san. I’m just feeling a little tired. I didn’t sleep well last night,” the boy replied weakly.   
  
“Is everything alight?” Shimizu asked, worry tinting his voice. “You’re not sick or anything, are you?”  
  
“No,” Akihito said reassuringly. “I’m fine. The fireworks kept me up, that’s all.” He turned his gaze to the mirror on the staff-room’s wall on the pretense of straightening his shirt. His eyes drifted to his now black hair. Though he has long since died it back to it’s normal color, it was still odd to see it so stark. He didn’t think he would ever get used to seeing it.   
  
Shimizu laughed. “Yeah,” he said as he began changing, himself. “They tend to go a little overboard with them. But they’re beautiful to watch. Have you been out to see them yet?”  
  
“No,” Akihito answered. He had no desire to go and see them. Nor did he have the desire to become friends with anyone while he was here. What was the point of friends, anyway, if you were going to just have to leave them behind. His mind drifted to Kou and Takato. He prayed to all that was holy that they were alright, that nothing had happened to them after he left. Other than Asami, who could care for himself, his friends were the only other family he had left. He didn’t want anything to happen to them.  
  
“Then you need to,” Shimizu interrupted his thoughts. “How about tonight, after we our shift finishes, you and I go out to the festival and watch the fireworks. Maybe find a girl or two to take home after it’s all done.”  
  
“I’d rather not,” Akihito answered. “It’ll be too tiring to go after being on our feet all night.”  
  
“No it won’t. It’ll be fun. Besides… It’s not like you have a girlfriend or something,” Shimizu elbowed Akihito lightly as they headed out of the staff-room.  
  
Akihito tried to laugh, but it sounded empty in his ears. 

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~

Akihito took one last look at the crane sitting on the pillow next to his. It was a dark grey in color, the color of Asami’s favorite gun. Who in there right mind had decided to make it an origami color, he didn’t know. But just the same, like every other color in the stack, it in some way reminded him of the yakuza. With a sigh, he rolled over. He had forgotten to buy more papers today. The one on the pillow had been the last one in the stack. He would have to fix that before he went to work tomorrow. That is, if Asami didn’t come for him before then.

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~


	4. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akihito begins to make friends as he slowly adapts to what new seems to be a more extended wait for Asami to clear things up in Tokyo. These friends, however, seem to be more worried over our photographer than he seems to realize.

**Crane 97…**

Akihito stood in the middle of the local art store, staring at the various different types of origami papers. He had no clue this morning when he left the apartment that he would be faced with this. Seriously? Why would anyone need anything other than colored paper? But no, there was much more. Some were printed with traditional prints that reminded him of summer yakatas, others more modern and abstract. Then there were the plain, ordinary colored papers.   
  
He picked up one of the traditionally printed packets, turning it over in his hands. There was no way of knowing what all the prints looked like. The package didn’t show them all. Still, he was interested. The traditional aspect to them did remind him of Asami. Not that that was a requirement for buying them. But for some reason, the more they reminded him of Asami, the more he thought he needed to buy them.   
  
With a sad smile, he reached down and picked up a packet of plain colored papers as well.

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~

After breakfast was finished and the dishes washed, Akihito sat on the floor again at his small table. Reaching into the bag he had set there after coming home, he pulled out both sets of colored paper. Opening both, he placed the printed ones on top of the plain ones and set them in their place to the side of the table. Pulling the top one over, he stared at its delicate pattern. Small butterflies were printed across the blue background.   
  
Akihito couldn’t help but laugh. It reminded him of that damned butterfly tie he’s given Asami as a gag gift for Christmas. When he’d picked it out, he thought it was hilarious. He’d finally found a tie that 1- Asami wouldn’t wear and 2- by extension of that, it was harmless. If Asami wouldn’t wear it, then he couldn’t use it to tie him to the bed, or bathtub. Hell, the yakuza bastard had proven time and again that he didn’t need anything to tie him to. He just had to tie him. It hadn’t worked either. Who would have thought that Asami would actually wear the damned thing?  
  
“Shit!” he exclaimed, looking at the clock. He was about to be late for work. Hurriedly scribbling a number on the wing, he opened the wings up and set the precious bird in the center of the table.  
  
“97”

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~

**Crane 128…**

“I don’t care if you think you’ll be ‘too tired’ after your shift, Nakashima-kun,” Shimizu said as the two were getting ready for their shift. “You’re going out drinking with us, and that’s final.”  
  
“But…” Akihito tried to object. He was running out of excuses to give the man for why he didn’t want to hang out or become friends.   
  
“No ‘buts’ Nakashima-kun. You’re spend far too much time alone. You turn me down every time I invite you anywhere. And I know you don’t have a girlfriend. So what harm is there in hanging out with me and a few other guys for a beer after work?”  
  
Akihito had to admit to himself that the offer was tempting. He’d done nothing other than work and spend time alone in his apartment since he moved in just over five months ago. Asami still hadn’t contacted him. And there was no telling when the man would come for him. One beer couldn’t hurt.

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~

Akihito leaned on the table with his elbow for support, his third beer in front of him. For the first time in months, a genuine smile graced his lips. Even though he had paced himself rather well, he was still feeling the effects of the alcohol. The conversation had been pretty mindless all night, talking about girls, work, favorite sports teams. He leaned a little farther across the table, trying not to slur his words.  
  
“Nah… I like ‘em with short, dark hair. The ones with long hair tend to be real bitches. At least at first,” he said, taking a gulp of beer.   
  
“Seriously?” Shimizu asked. “Short hair? I’d have figured you for more of the traditional, long-haired type.”  
  
“Nuh-uh!” Akihito shook his head only to grip it with his hands to keep it from spinning. “I tried that once. Didn’t like it,” he said seriously. “Nah. I like ‘em a little less traditional. They’re more fun that way.” His mind drifted off. “Yeah… more fun.”  
  
“Alright. I get it,” Shimizu waved his hands in defeat. “And I think you’ve had your last beer. Come on,” he said offering a hand to help Akihito stand up. “I’ll help you back to your apartment.”  
  
Akihito nodded and took the offered hand. “It’s a good thing I have tomorrow off,” he said as he wobbled out the door to the bar. “I can sleep this off.”

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~

“You sure you don’t need any help, Nakashima-kun?” Shimizu asked as he stood in the foyer of Akihito’s apartment.   
  
“I got it,” he younger man called out as he stumbled across his living room. Shimizu watched as Akihito pulled his shirt over his head and left it lying on the floor. He thought it was odd when the boy picked up the small, blue, folded crane from the table, then watched as the pants came off at the bedroom door. With a loud thump, he heard the boy hit the mattress.   
  
With a sigh, he took off his shoes. _I need to at least make sure he’s covered so he doesn’t catch a cold_ , he said to himself. Walking to the bedroom, his eyes fell on the crane as it sat on the extra pillow next to the boy’s head. Picking it up, he noticed a small number, “128” written on the underside of one of the wings. Placing it back down on the pillow, he pulled the covers over Akihito’s sleeping form. _Now who is it that you’re waiting for?_ With one last look at his friend, Shimizu let himself out of the bedroom and out of the apartment, locking the door behind him and then slipping the key in through the mailbox to be found in the morning.

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~  
  



	5. Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is taking Asami longer than Akihito thought it would for him to return to our photographer. As the days pass, how will he deal with the growing separation?

**Crane 268…**

  
Nine months… and still no word.  
  
Akihito walked home after his late shift, trying to ignore all the colorful decorations that adorned the city. He hardly felt in a festive mood. In fact it was quite the opposite. Of all the nights to be alone, this was the one that he hated the most. He had even volunteered for work in order to give another coworker the night off to spend with his family.   
  
“Damn it!” he mumbled under his breath, his frustration mounting. He was not looking forward to going home to an empty apartment. Still, it couldn’t be helped. At least that was what he kept telling himself.   
  
_It couldn’t be helped._  
  
That had been his mantra for the past nine months. He’d quit watching the news for fear that he would see something that he didn’t want to see. Instead, he held his breath in quiet ignorance, hoping that the damned yakuza bastard was still alive and fighting.   
  
Thinking of Asami, he smiled sadly and looked down at the bag in his hand. It held more origami papers. This set printed in winter themes. It also held a small box. He had found its contents by chance and bought it before he even thought about what he was doing. Though it had been a whim, the moment his eyes saw the tie he immediately thought of Asami. It wasn’t like the butterfly tie he had purchased as a gag gift. No, this one was not only tasteful, it was beautiful. He was sure Asami would like it when he gave it to him.   
  
Though some would say he was a fool for buying a Christmas gift for someone who had not spoken to him in so long, he couldn’t help it. He actually looked forward to wrapping it with the small bit of wrapping paper he had bought along with it. Yes, he could have had someone at the store wrap it for him, but that wasn’t the point. He wanted to wrap it himself.  
  
With anticipation, Akihito shuffled up the stairwell to his third floor apartment only to find Shimizu waiting for him outside his apartment door.  
  
“What…?” he tried to ask his smiling friend. Their’s had been an odd friendship. It didn’t start out well since Akihito had no desire to make friends with anyone after he moved. However, Shimizu had been rather persistent in not letting the photographer spend everyday alone, inviting him out with the other guys from work and a few others that he knew from the neighborhood. Slowly, Akihito had warmed up to the man a little, though it was still touch-and-go as to whether or not what they had could even be called a friendship.   
  
“I knew you were going to spend the night alone,” he man said with a sigh. “Really now, it’s Christmas Eve. There is no point in you spending it by yourself. My family will be happy to have you join us.”  
  
“I don’t want to impose on you or your family. Besides, I’m not really alone,” he said with a small smile.  
  
“Is someone meeting later tonight?” Shimizu asked, obviously confused. It was late already.   
  
“No,” Akihito replied.  
  
“Then why not…” Shimizu started.  
  
“I told you, Shimizu-san. I’m not really alone,” Akihito gently moved Shimizu away from the door and unlocked it. “Thank you, for the offer. But I think you should leave now.”  
  
“I don’t get it, Nakashima-kun,” the other man said in total confusion.  
  
“You don’t have to,” was all Akihito said as he entered his apartment and shut the door behind him, locking it. “As if I would spend tonight with another man, even if you are only a friend,” he whispered into the empty apartment.   
  
Laying his find down on the table next to the crane occupying its center, Akihito took out the small box containing Asami’s new tie and the wrapping paper. 

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~

**Crane 269…**

  
Akihito rolled over in bed as he had every morning for the past nine months, his eyes resting in the crane sitting on the pillow next to him.   
  
“So, you didn’t come again,” he sighed. “Still…” he said as he sat up. “Merry Christmas, Bastard.”  
  
Getting out of the bed, he didn’t even bother to get dressed. It was his day off and he didn’t feel like it. Instead, he stayed in the boxers and t-shirt he had slept in and wrapped his bathrobe loosely around himself. He grabbed the crane from the bed, and instead of setting it on the dresser, he carried it out with him into the living room. Threading a small piece of Christmas ribbon he had left over from the wrapping Asami’s gift the night before, Akihito flattened the small bird and tied it to the gift waiting patiently on the table for its owner. With a sigh, he stood and walked back to the bedroom, opening up the drawer of his night stand and deposited the gift next to the one he had purchased for Asami’s birthday. It too had a small crane attached to the wrapping.  
  
“Now that that’s done,” Akihito said as he shut the drawer, “where did I put that new game I just bought?” 

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~


	6. Part Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akihito finds a little bit of himself that he's been missing while separated from Asami.

**Crane 274…**

  
A week later, Akihito found Shimizu standing outside his door again.  
  
“It’s New Year’s Eve, Nakashima-kun. I’m not letting you spend it alone,” the man demanded. “My parents are expecting you. They’ve even prepared the extra futon so you have a place to sleep.”  
  
“Damn it, Shimizu!” Akihito hissed. “I don’t want to be around anyone tonight. I _want_ to be left alone. Don’t you get it?!”  
  
“No, I don’t,” Shimizu responded firmly. “I don’t get it at all, Nakashima-kun. Why do you do this? It doesn’t make any sense.”  
  
“I’m not asking you to understand,” the photographer snapped. “Now let me in my apartment.”   
  
“Nakashima…” Shimizu started, laying his hand on Akihito’s shoulder.  
  
“Don’t touch me,” Akihito knocked the hand off his shoulder.  
  
Shimizu stared at his friend, caught off guard by those defiant, hazel eyes. Silently, he stepped to the side, allowing the photographer access to his door. He couldn’t say anything. Something in the other man’s demeanor warned him not to.   
  
Without saying anything else, Akihito opened his apartment, then promptly shut the door behind him, locking it. He stood quietly behind the door, waiting to hear the other man’s footsteps as he walked away. It took longer than he thought it would, and he feared that Shimizu would begin ringing the doorbell and making a scene. He couldn’t understand why the other man was so persistent. It was his own business if he wanted to spend the holidays by himself, not anyone else’s. Finally, Akihito heard the soft sounds of Shimizu’s feet as they made their way down the walkway and away from the apartment.   
  
With a sigh, Akihito took off his shoes and entered the apartment. After changing into a pair of sweats, he grabbed a beer from the fridge, sat down on the floor in front of his small table and turned on the TV. Setting his beer down, he picked up the crane from that morning. It was a deep gold, the color of Asami’s eyes.  
  
“You damn bastard,” he whispered to the crane. “What the hell is taking you so damn long?” he asked. “You said you would come for me.”  
  
Setting the crane down, Akihito closed his eyes, picturing those piercing golden eyes hovering over him. He truly missed those eyes. Feeling a rising warmth in his stomach that had nothing to do with the beer, Akihito allowed his hand to wander down to the waist band of his sweats. Doing this wasn’t really going to make him feel any better. He knew that. But he needed some type of release.   
  
“You better be as frustrated as I am, Bastard,” he said softly as he slipped his hand below the waist of his pants. A soft moan escaped his lips as his fingers brushed over his rapidly growing erection.   
  
Another moan passed his lips as he freed himself from the now constricting clothing. “Asami…” he gasped as the cold air of the apartment washed over his member, clashing with its heat. Slowly, Akihito began to move his hand, all the while focused on those arrogant eyes that filled his soul with longing and lust.   
  
All too quickly it was over. He leaned back against the couch, spent. “Damn it!” he cursed sadly. “I’m tired of waiting, Asami… I’m tired of waiting…” a silent tear slipped down his cheek.

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~

**Crane 275…**

  
Akihito stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. _Shit! I don’t even recognize myself_ , he cursed. He had grown increasingly upset over past months each time he looked at himself in a reflection. His hair, now black and about shoulder length did much to change his appearance. Though that wasn’t what disturbed him. It was his eyes that bothered him the most.   
  
They were someone else’s eyes.  
  
His once bright, defiant hazel eyes had dulled. Was there really any fight in them to start with? Akihito sighed, turning from the reflection that disturbed him so much. Moving to the bedroom to get dressed, his eyes fell longingly on his camera sitting on top of his dresser, long unused. _When was the last time I even took a picture?_ he asked himself. Slamming his drawer shut, he tried to ignore the camera taunting him from where it sat.   
  
“Damn you, Asami!” he mumbled. “Are you happy now? You’ve taken all of me. I have nothing of myself left.”  
  
Pulling his shirt over his head, Akihito glanced at the camera again, mischief lighting his eyes for the first time in months. “You damn bastard! You said I couldn’t make a living off photography… But you never said anything about me doing it as a hobby.”   
  
Hurriedly he finished dressing, putting on a warmer shirt and a pair of warm socks. Grabbing the camera, Akihito dug around in the closet looking for a specific box. He had to move a few smaller boxes containing folded cranes out of his way, but it still didn’t take long for him to find exactly what he was looking for. As he lifted the lid, he smiled. “And you’re going to pay for this ‘hobby’ yourself.” He had been living off his pay from his now permanent job at the café, so all of the money Asami had sent with him lay hidden in the closet for emergencies. Today was exactly the type of emergency he didn’t want to spend his own money on.  
  
Pocketing several of the bills, Akihito quickly slung his father’s camera over his coat as he left the house and proceeded to the local art store that he had been frequenting to buy his origami papers, hoping it would be open.  
  
“Morning, Nakashima-kun,” the owner called out as Akihito entered the store. “What brings you in so early this morning? More origami paper?”  
  
“Not today, but thank you. Today I need film,” the boy responded cheerfully.  
  
“Film?” the old man asked, curious.  
  
“Yep,” Akihito smiled. “Film. Professional. Black and white, if you have it.”  
  
“That would be over here,” the old man directed.   
  
“Thank you so much!” the younger man said cheerfully as he pocketed the film and turned to leave the small store.

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~

Akihito ignored his freezing fingers as he lifted the camera to his face again. He was hungry too, but he chose to ignore the slight rumbling in his belly as well. He had spent a good portion of the day hiking through the local area, looking for the perfect shot, and he had finally found it. _Next time I’ll bring snacks along,_ he thought. But for now, he focused on the landscape in front of him. He had been past here earlier that morning, but the lighting hadn’t been right. So instead, he decided to look elsewhere for this little excursion into his former life. Sadly he hadn’t found anything that spoke to him.   
  
It was as he was retracing his steps that he noticed the sun was hitting the small open field among the trees in a different light, perfecting the small meadow in a contrast of virgin snow and shadow. The small shrine that sat off to one side near the top of the small slope only added to the moment. Only after he had gathered all the pictures that he could from the meadow’s edge, did he finally step out and mar the beautiful, virgin snow that blanketed the place. He slowly, little by little, edged closer to the shrine, taking pictures of it from every conceivable angle.   
  
It truly was small. And old. From the looks of things, it wasn’t well used either. Not that it was in disrepair, only it felt a little lonely, as if it had been forgotten by whoever had built it here. _It’s sad,_ he thought. _To be forgotten like this…_ He snapped another picture. _I’ll make sure you’re remembered…_ Another picture. _Even if it’s only me…_ Finishing his last roll of film, Akihito took one last look at the shrine and turned to leave. _I’ll be back when the sakura bloom. I promise. Even if I’m back in Tokyo, I’ll find a way to come back. I bet you’re just as beautiful covered in pink._

  
~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~


	7. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akihito returns to the Shrine in the spring, as promised.

**Crane 395…**

  
Akihito stood in the clearing again. Unlike New Year’s, the shrine was now bathed in a gentle pink. _You’re just as beautiful as I thought you would be_ , he thought, bringing his camera up to his eye. He had been there since early morning, taking the same pictures repeatedly in the different lighting as the sun passed over head. This time he had remembered to bring snacks. He’d even packed a small lunch. Now, as the sun set over the horizon, casting long shadows across the shrine, Akihito couldn’t help but bemoan that he only had one more roll of film left. _I should have brought more. Oh well… I have more than enough to develop at the moment_.  
  
Snapping one last picture, the photographer packed his belongings, making sure to pick up every last trace of his day spent there. He didn’t want to mar the beauty of the clearing by leaving any of his trash behind. With one last look over his shoulder, he asked himself the one question that had been bothering him since New Year’s. _I wonder who owns this lonely little shrine_.   
  
He shrugged. More than likely he wouldn’t get an answer. Besides, he didn’t have the first clue as to who to ask about it. _Maybe the old man that owns the art store would know,_ he thought. It would be nice to know. If his pictures came out well enough, he was considering putting together a photo book or something dedicated to this small shrine. But to do that, he would first need to find who it belonged to and then get there permission. As it was, if it did belong to anyone, he was trespassing. _Who am I kidding?_ he asked himself. _I have to get back to Tokyo before I can even think about something like that. Asami would kill me if I published, even under an assumed name. Shit… When the hell is he going to get this mess straightened out? It’s been a year already._   
  
That fact scared Akihito more than it pissed him off. He’d grown used to the fact that it would take longer for Asami to come for him than originally planned. But the fact that it was taking so long meant that it had to be some serious trouble. Serious. Akihito knew that if it was something that Asami couldn’t take care of immediately, then it was something that he wanted to have absolutely no part in. No, he was just going to continue being a good little boy and do as he was told. He would get up, go to work, come home, and then start the routine all over the next day.   
  
Akihito shook his head. _Who the hell would have ever thought I would become so damn predictable?_

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~

  
**Crane 437…**

  
“Wanna go out drinking tonight after our shift?” Akihito asked Shimizu.  
  
The other man looked stunned. “You’re really asking me out for a drink?” he said with a slightly shocked voice.  
  
“Yeah…” the photographer replied. “What’s so odd about that?”  
  
“You never ask. And you almost always turn down any invitations. Besides, after New Year’s…” the mans voice drifted off not wanting to discuss the fact that his friend had hardly spoken to him in the past several months since then.  
  
Akihito nodded. “You were being a little pushy, though,” he said.  
  
“Maybe,” Shimizu agreed. “But I’m not the only one worried about you. Ine-san is too.”  
  
“Boss is?”  
  
Shimizu nodded.   
  
Akihito sighed. “Fine. I get it. I spend too much time alone. Happy? Now are we going drinking tonight or not?” the boy demanded.  
  
“Sure,” Shimizu laughed. “I know of this new place that just opened up. We can go there.”

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~

  
Akihito fumbled with his key, missing the lock for the third time. Laughing, he looked at the offending object as it lay on the floor in front of his door trying to figure out exactly how it got there.  
  
“Here, lemme help,” a drunken Shimizu said from where he stood, leaning against the wall. “I’m less drunk than you are. Maybe I can make it work.” Bending over to pick up the key, Shimizu wobbled into the wall, laughing. He opened the door on the first try. “Your apartment, sir,” he gestured to the now open door.   
  
Laughing, the two men entered the apartment. “Just put the keys on that table there,” Akihito gestured to a small table sitting next to the door. “Come on in and have a seat. I might have some sake around here somewhere. Or do you want beer?”  
  
“Beer is fine,” Shimizu answered from the couch. “Though I don’t think you need any more. I would never have figured you for such a lightweight.”  
  
“Ha ha…” Akihito said sarcastically. He didn’t want to discuss his low alcohol tolerance. Nor did he want to remember the fact that Asami would always find some way to comment on the fact that he wasn’t a good drinking partner for the older man due to his lack of ‘ability’ to drink.  
  
Returning to the living room, Akihito found Shimizu sitting on the couch examining the small paper crane he had found there. His eyes widened seeing the pink bird being handled by someone else.   
  
“Um… Could you… put that back. Please?” He set the beer down on the table and unsteadily reached for the bird.  
  
“Sure,” Shimizu handed the bird over. “Can I ask what the number is for? Have you really made 437 of them? What are you wishing for?” the older man asked, unknowingly. Reaching for his beer he was unable to see the hurt that crossed his friend’s face. When he received no reply, he looked up to find Akihito sitting on the floor, head laid down on the table with tears in his eyes as he gently played with the paper crane.   
  
“Nakashima?” he tried to get Akihito’s attention.   
  
The other, however, was too far gone to alcohol and grief to notice. “You promised,” he whispered through his tears. “You said you would come when you were finished with business. Or have you forgotten about me this past year?”  
  
“Who are you talking to, Nakashima?” Shimizu asked only to find the boy had fallen asleep. “Yuta?” he called out hesitantly as he reached his hand across the table to brush a stray lock of hair from the photographer’s face. Getting up from the couch, Shimizu gently laid the boy down on the floor and placed a pillow under his head. “Where do you keep the blanket’s?” he asked, knowing he wouldn’t get a response.   
  
Standing up, he looked around the room but found no blankets. _Maybe they’re in the other room_. “Forgive me for the intrusion,” he said as he opened the bedroom door. Looking in the closet for an extra blanket, he stumbled across the boxes of cranes. He couldn’t believe it. Each was numbered just as the one he had seen on the table had been numbered.  
  
Returning to the living room and the drunken Akihito, Shimizu covered the photographer with one of the blankets he had retrieved from the closet. “What fool put his business ahead of you and left you here all lone to cry like this, Yuta?” he asked softly as he brushed the hair out of the photographer’s face again. Leaning in, he placed a chaste kiss on the young man’s lips. “If it were me, I’d never let you cry again,” he said, moving back when the man on the floor moved. “But I don’t stand a chance, do I?” He looked at the crane in the boy’s hand. “Not when you still have this much devotion.” With a sigh, Shimizu stretched out on the floor next to Akihito. Covering himself with another blanket, he closed his eyes hoping sleep would come quickly.

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~


	8. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small glimpse at to why it's taking Asami so long...

**Crane 457…**

  
“It’s getting to where it’s not safe to life anywhere these days,” Akihito heard old man Fujikawa complain as he waved an rumpled newspaper at his friend across the table. The photographer tried to tune out both old men and their conversation. But since there were only a few customers in the store at the moment, it was a difficult task. “And what, exactly, are the authorities doing about this?” he waved the paper again. “Investigating,” he said with disgust. “Just how much investigating does it take to catch a murderer? How is it going to help these poor boys? Or the next victim?”   
  
Fujikawa threw the paper on the chair next to him in frustration. His companion answered something rather non-committal and the conversation quickly changed to complaining about the weather, the newspaper forgotten. Akihito couldn’t help but laugh. These two were always like this, and their familiar banter was, in its own way, reassuring.

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~

  
Akihito picked up the forgotten newspaper only half paying attention to it as he began folding it. He would put it in the break room in case anyone wanted to read it later. As his hands ran over the rumpled pages, his eyes caught the headline the old man had been complaining about.   
  
_SERIAL KILLER STALKS STREETS OF TOKYO_  
  
Akihito reached out to the nearest chair in order to steady himself as his knees suddenly failed to support him, his face paling. Beneath the headline were four pictures, each of a young man between the ages of 18 and 25. Each baring an uncanny resemblance to the face he saw each morning in the mirror.  
  
His eyes widened and his knees gave way completely. Collapsing to the floor, his eyes scanned over the article.  
  
_“… claimed four victims in the last year… suspect is still at large… Tokyo police continue to look for details that will aid in the identification and arrest of the serial killer… Tokyo residents are asked to remain aware of their surroundings.”_  
  
Akihito fought for breath. Darkness tried to descend on him. Clutching the paper to his chest, the photographer attempted to stand only to collapse onto his knees.  
  
“Nakashima-kun?” he heard Ine, his manager at his side, the man’s arm supporting him from behind. “Are you okay?” the man asked, his voice heavy with concern.   
  
The boy barely registered the arm around his shoulders as he fought to gain his feet. Lurching forward, Akihito stumbled out of the room. In a haze, he made his way to the washroom, throwing the door open only to collapse in front of the toilet just in time to empty his stomach.   
  
“Yuta?” he heard Shimizu’s voice from the door. “Yuta?” he heard again but he was too focused on his rebellious stomach and inability to breathe to notice.   
  
Without another word, Shimizu entered the washroom and knelt beside his friend, pulling his shoulder length hair back from his face. 

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~

  
Akihito tired to open his eyes, but they were too heavy along with the rest of his body. As his mind drifted in and out of sleep, images of the photos from that morning’s newspaper kept shifting through his memory. They all looked like him. He knew Asami sent him away because he said it was “too dangerous” for him to remain in the city as long as there were dissenters within the organization, but he never thought that it would go this far, that he would be the target of a serial killer. Panic rose in him again and he began to fight for breath, his chest constricting.   
  
“Shhhhh,” he heard a voice above him. There were fingers running gently through his hair. “It’s okay.” The voice sounded like Shimizu.  
  
Forcing his eyes open, he saw his friend sitting next to him in an unfamiliar room. “Where…?”  
  
“Ine-san admitted you to the hospital,” Shimizu answered. “We’ve been taking turns watching over you.”  
  
“Turns?” Akihito tried to focus on the meaning of the word. “How long have I been here?”  
  
“A little more than a day,” the other man replied. “They had to sedate you.”  
  
“Oh my god,” the photographer breathed.   
  
“What the hell was that, Yuta? I’ve never seen anyone panic like that.”  
  
Akihito closed his eyes and turned his face away from his friend. He didn’t want to answer the question.   
  
“Ine-san says it’s because you’ve been working yourself too hard, never taking a day off and taking double shifts to fill in for the others when they can’t make it to work.” Shimizu waited for a response. When he didn’t get one, he continued. “I don’t think that’s the case. It had something to do with that newspaper you were clutching, didn’t it?” the man pressed.   
  
“No. It didn’t,” Akihito said softly.  
  
“But…” Shimizu tried to continue.  
  
“Drop it, Shimizu-san. I don’t want to talk about it.” He turned to face the other man, his eyes burning. “Thank you for watching over me,” he continued. “I’d like to be left alone, now. Tell Ine-san I’m doing well.” Turning his face away to gaze out the window, Akihito ignored Shimizu’s protests. Realizing that he was being dismissed, and that Akihito was no longer going to talk to him, Shimizu reluctantly left the hospital.

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~

  
**Crane 459…**

  
Two new paper cranes sat ignored on the table in front of Akihito. In his hand he turned over the small orange bottle the doctors insisted he take with him when he left the hospital just a few hours earlier, its white label mocking him. _Anti-depressant pills…_ he sighed. Silently he cursed both Shimizu and their boss for telling the doctors about his tendency to want to be alone. He slammed the bottle of pills down on the table and went to the bedroom to retrieve his laptop.  
  
Setting the computer on the table, he turned it on wishing there were a way to make it load up faster.   
  
“Finally,” he sighed, clicking on his browser. He had avoided the news during the past year for fear he would hear something he did not want to. But now he could no longer remain ignorant. The need to know clawed at his stomach, making it impossible to eat or sleep.   
  
In a matter of moments, his search results covered the various windows on the screen, and it was obvious to his trained, journalist eye that all hell had broken loose in the underworld since he left Tokyo. The bullets that had begun everything were but a prelude to the violence that was to come. It was no longer just an uprising in Asami’s ranks. It was a full-scale war between rival yakuza clans as each bid for the power they believed was theirs. One only had to follow the headlines to see it.  
  
_LOCAL WAREHOUSE MYSTERIOUSLY BURNS_  
  
_VIOLENT CRIME RATE AT ALL TIME HIGH_  
  
_POLICE SUSPECT LOCAL YAKUZA…_  
  
And the one that made him shake in terror:  
  
_GAS EXPLOSION CLAIMS TWO_  
  
_“It was determined that faulty maintenance caused the explosion last week that damaged most of the 35th floor of the Sion Group’s Corporate Headquarters… damage included portions of the surrounding 34th and 36th floors… the lives of two employees were claimed in the explosion… Sion president Asami Ryuichi has declined to comment on how this recent disaster will affect business.”_  
  
He sighed in relief that Asami was alive and was not caught in the explosion. At least that was the impression that he got from the article. But if whoever it was in his organization was close enough to bomb Asami’s main office… Akihito refused to finish the thought.   
  
In his quest to banish the thought of Asami in danger the images of the four victims rose unbidden in his mind again. Were they really dead because of him? Tears streamed down his face, unnoticed. Why did it have to be like this? Why couldn’t they just leave him and Asami alone?  
  
Deep in his heart he knew that would never happen. Theirs was a world of darkness, a world where any weakness was deemed someone else’s advantage. The weak died. Only the strong survived.  
  
Akihito knew without a doubt that Asami was more than strong enough to survive.  
  
“But am I strong enough?” he asked himself, broken sobs wracking his body.

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~


	9. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akihito's final crane.

**Crane 506…**

  
Empty beer cans littered Akihtio’s living room table, a small blue crane sitting among them. Laughter filled the apartment. It was a good sound. It had been so long since there was genuine laughter filling its space.   
  
After that incident in the café that put him in the hospital, both Shimizu and Ine-san had become more insistent that he was spending too much time alone and needed to be more active in his social life. Eventually, it was easier to just give in to their persistent almost nagging concern though it did annoy to some extent him that Shimizu would not leave well enough alone.  
  
“No really,” Akihito said half drunkenly as he leaned a little closer to Shimizu, pointing his finger at his face. “It really happened like that.”  
  
“I’m sure it did,” the other man replied a little less drunken than his companion. “Hey,” he said more seriously. “Should you really be drinking?” he asked, nodding to the orange bottle of pills that sat next to the crane.  
  
Akihito didn’t answer. Instead, his lips formed into a small pout as he ignored the question.  
  
“I’m just concerned,” Shimizu said, his hand brushing a stray lock of hair out of Akihito’s face.  
  
Not liking where he thought this might be going, Akihito opened his mouth to try and say something. Before he could, Shimizu’s hand reached around behind his neck and drew him close, sealing his lips with a kiss, slipping his tongue into the unsuspecting photographer’s mouth. After so long without any type of physical contact, and his half drunken state, Akihito was too shocked to react immediately. For one brief moment he considered giving in to the pleasure. But a pair of piercing, arrogant golden eyes filled his mind.   
  
“Shimizu…” Akihito said, pulling back from the kiss.  
  
“It’s Jun,” Shimizu said softly.  
  
“Shimizu-san,” the photographer said more firmly as he moved farther back on the couch.   
  
With a heavy sigh, Shimizu sat back, silent. There was nothing to say. He knew what the problem was and there was nothing he could do about it.  
  
“I have to leave,” he said finally breaking the silence.  
  
Akihito nodded, not saying anything as his friend got up, crossed the living room and left.

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~

  
Akihito wasn’t sure how long he sat on the couch after Shimizu left. He had seen the signs but ignored them thinking that Shimizu wouldn’t act on his feelings.   
  
“Damn it!” he cursed as he suddenly stood up and began clearing the mess left from their drinking. “Why’d you have to go and do that?” he asked no one in particular.  
  
After he finished cleaning, he pulled his laptop out from under the table where he had stashed it when they began drinking that night and started it up. While he was waiting for it to load, he gently rolled the paper crane over in his fingers.   
  
“I know you haven’t forgotten about me,” he whispered.  
  
Clicking on his browser, he did a quick search, hoping to find some good news. Things seemed to be quite recently in Tokyo. Maybe Asami would be coming to get him soon. Only one headline stood out.  
  
LOCAL SERIAL KILLER SHOT RESISTING ARREST  
  
Akihito scanned over the article, quickly taking in the details. Apparently Tokyo police had finally caught up with the man that was responsible for killing young men that looked like Akihito. While trying to arrest the man, he had resisted, pulling a gun on one of the officers only to be shot himself. From what the police had discovered in his apartment, the man had been spurned by his lover who was to eventually become his first victim. However, for reasons that could not be explained, the murderer had not stopped with one single victim and began looking for others. Each one, in their own way, reminding him of his former lover.  
  
_Killed resisting arrest_ … Akihtio thought to himself. _I’m sure it was that. The cop is probably on Asami’s payroll. That or he owed a debt of some kind. Nice cover story, though._  
  
Relief washed over the photographer as he shut down his computer. Picking up the crane, Akihito disappeared into his bedroom. Tonight, he might just sleep well for the first night in a long while. Maybe tomorrow he wouldn’t wake up to an empty bed.

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~

  
**Crane 598…**

  
“Are you going to join us tonight?” Shimizu asked as they were finishing up their shift.  
  
“No,” Akihito said plainly, not even looking at the other man.  
  
Shimizu sighed. Akihito had hardly said anything to him since that last night they went drinking. The photographer had gone back to his usual anti-social habits shortly after.  
  
“Yuta…”  
  
“I said no, Shimizu-san,” Akihito said again as he turned and left the break room.

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~  
  


  
**Crane 672…**

  
“Yuta,” Shimizu tried to get Akihito’s attention.  
  
Akihito, however, ignored his coworker.  
  
“Nakashima-san,” Shimizu tried again.  
  
“Yes,” Akihito said disinterestedly.  
  
“Nevermind,” Shimizu sighed. He knew it was pointless and that whatever he said would be ignored or rejected anyway. 

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~

  
**Crane 801…**

  
Akihito stood in the now familiar clearing, his camera in his hand. Though things in the news suggested that events in Tokyo had calmed down dramatically, Asami still hadn’t come for him. The only place that he felt at peace now was in this small clearing, its worn shrine tucked up against the trees. It didn’t take much investigating to learn that the shrine’s original owner and their family had long since left the area. Since then, no one had bothered to maintain it. Upon hearing that, the photographer had gained a new appreciation for the tiny building and had redoubled his efforts to make sure that it was not forgotten. When he got back to Tokyo, he would make sure to put his collection of photos into a book, even if he was the only one that would see them. 

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~

  
**Crane 923…**

  
Throwing his keys down on the small table just inside his door, Akihito took out the small orange bottle from his coat pocket before hanging it up. Part of him wished that he didn’t need these things. He felt weak for having to take them. However, he knew that wasn’t the truth.   
  
Setting the pills down next to the crane occupying the living room table, he sighed. He had been folding them out of habit more than anything recently. Turning to the kitchen to make his dinner, he tried to ignore the lone tear that slipped down his cheek.  
  
Hope warred with despair.

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~

  
**Crane 1000…**

  
Akihito set his pill bottle on the nightstand next to his bed and picked up the crane, the number 1000 scratched on the underside of its golden wing. He had specifically held this paper for last, its color reminding him of those eyes he wanted most to see. Gently he set the precious bird down on its pillow and crawled under the covers to lay his head down on the other pillow occupying the bed.  
  
There was no wish, no prayer… only doubt.

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~

  
Akihito woke to an empty bed, the golden crane mocking him from its pillow. Tears flowed freely from the photographer’s eyes. Picking up his cell phone, he called in sick to work.

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~  
  


**One month later…**

  
“Why do you do this to yourself, Yuta?” Shimizu demanded.  
  
Akihito sat silently on the couch, unwilling to answer his friend.  
  
“Why spend your days pining for some bastard that hasn’t spoken to you in three years?” the other man continued when Akihito refused to respond.  
  
“That is none of your business,” the photographer hissed.  
  
“Not my business?!” Shimizu’s voice rose in anger. “It’s been a month since you folded your last crane! How much longer do you plan to wait? He’s obviously forgotten about you!”  
  
“You’re wrong!” Akihito said firmly. “He wouldn’t forget about me.”  
  
“Are you sure?” Shimizu said firmly, not raising his voice.  
  
“Yes,” Akihito replied just as firmly. “Now get out.”  
  
“Yuta…”  
  
“I said… Get. Out.” Akihito said loudly. 

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~

  
Akihito glared at the empty pillow on his bed as he rolled over, trying to get comfortable so he could sleep. Tears fell from his eyes.   
  
“We were supposed to descend together, stupid bastard.”

~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, lovelies! We have one last chapter left. After a little revising, I will have it up as soon as I possibly can. I promise not to leave you here for too long.


	10. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, we come to a conclusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, lovelies for following with me on this journey. Thank you for being patient with me as the updates were infrequent, and unscheduled. Life has a way of interfering with plans, no matter how well laid out. I know that I am absolutely terrible at replying to your comments (that life thing and all...), but if you wish, please leave a little bit of love at the end, here. Let me know if you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed sharing. I promise I will reply to this one.  
> For those of you that have known me long enough to have read the original, this has been edited, and does not match the original in a few places. This, I feel, is for the better.

Asami stood in the middle of the small apartment, a doubtful look on his face. Other than a computer on the table, there was no sign that anyone actually lived there. Over by the TV was a game station, but its controller was neatly set next to the console. There were no games visible or left out as if recently played, and the place was absolutely spotless. He was beginning to think Kirishima gave him the wrong apartment. If it weren’t for his faith in his assistant, he would think it was the wrong place.  
  
Moving from the living room to the bedroom, Asami continued to look for any signs that his lover did in deed live in this apartment. The bedroom, just like the living room was completely clean. The bed was made, which Akihito never did. There were no clothes on the floor. The clothes in the drawers were neatly folded and stored, as well as the ones in the closet, all neatly hung. And the shoeboxes? Akihito never kept his shoes in their boxes. It was as if someone else, and not his young lover, lived there. It was disturbing. _When the did Akihito start keeping house this meticulously?_   
  
With a sigh, Asami’s eyes fell on the nightstand. Two things caught his attention, a bright, golden paper crane, and an orange bottle of pills. He didn’t remember Akihito ever taking any medicine. Was he ill? Turning the bottle over in his hand, Asami’s eyes widened as he read the label. _When the hell did he start taking anti-depressants?_   
  
Putting the bottle down he picked up the crane thinking it was an odd thing for the boy to have. It looked a little worn, as if its wings had been handled often. There was also a partial stain on one of the wings, a watermark marring the beautiful gold of the paper. Asami’s fingers ran over the delicate fold. The bird was a puzzle. As he was about to give up on examining it, he noticed the number scratched on the underside of its wing.   
  
1000.  
  
The number only served to pique his interest even more. Hearing the door open, he took a step towards the living room. He stopped, however, when he heard voices as well.   
  
“Go home, Shimizu-san!”  
  
That voice, the voice he had been longing to hear, was raised in anger. It had been so long since he heard that voice. But why was it different? Asami couldn’t exactly put his finger on the difference, but something was off about his lover’s tone. It sounded hollow.  
  
Coming out of his thoughts, he realized he had missed some of the conversation.  
  
“I want to be left alone, Shimizu-san!” Akihito’s voice rose further in anger.  
  
“It’s Jun, Yuta. I think we’ve been through enough to merit at least using first names now,” the other man replied.   
  
Asami growled at that. How dare this man try and be familiar with his boy.  
  
“I disagree, Shimizu-san,” was his lover’s reply. The corner of Asami’s mouth twitched, his familiar smirk gracing his lips. He had forgotten how the photographer could make an honorific sound like an insult. And yet this Shimizu hadn’t figured that out yet. He held back a small laugh, not wanting to be discovered yet. He wanted to hear out the rest of the argument. If needed, he would leave the room and let this Shimizu know exactly what his place was.  
  
“Why do you do this to yourself, Yuta?” Shimizu raised his voice in frustration. “Why spend your days pining for some bastard that hasn’t spoken to you in three years?”  
  
Asami wanted to hear the answer as much as Shimizu apparently wanted to. Pride filled him at the thought of his boy waiting. Of course no one else could satisfy Akihito. Asami had made sure of that.  
  
“That’s none of your business.”  
  
Asami chuckled at that. There was the fight back in his boy’s voice, though it sounded strained, thin.  
  
“None of my business?! It’s been a month since you folded your last crane! How much longer do you plan to wait? He’s obviously forgotten about you!”  
  
_Folded…?_ Asami looked down at the crane still in his hand. Had Akihito really folded 1000 cranes while they were separated? Suddenly, the boxes made more sense. Putting the crane back in its place, Asami entered the closet for the second time. He lifted the lid off one of the boxes. Inside was a riot of colorful paper cranes, each with a different number scribbled under its wing.   
  
The sound of the door shutting brought him out of his musings. He stood to go great his long absent lover, and stopped, the conversation he had just overheard causing him to hesitate. Though he the thought of someone else trying to take his Akihito, Shimizu had said one thing that stuck hard in Asami’s mind. It had been three years since he had last spoken to Akihito. It wasn’t by choice. Things just had been too dangerous.  
  
Shutting the door to the closet, he left it open just a crack so he could see into the bedroom. Peeking around the door, Asami watched as Akihito entered the room, a glass of water in his hand. He watched as his lover set the glass down and opened the bottle of pills, emptying one out into his hand.  
  
_Has he lost weight?_ Asami gazed at that lithe form as he began to undress. He noticed those hips his hands knew so well jutted out from his now sickly thin frame. _What has happened to you?_ With growing sadness he watched with increasing realization that the vitality had left his boy. Now the pills made sense. Before him stood a broken man. _Is this my fault?_  
  
His breath caught as Akihito climbed into the covers, glaring in anger at the empty pillow. _It’s still there,_ he thought with relief. Buried beneath the sorrow and defeat there was still the spark of defiance that he fell in love with. The fire hadn’t completely left his boy.  
  
“We were supposed to descend together, stupid bastard.”  
  
Asami suppressed another small laugh and pulled out his cell phone. Turning the volume off so as not to alert Akihito of his presence, he typed out a hasty message to Kirishima. _Come to his apartment. Bring sewing needles, thread, and thumbtacks. Do not knock. Wait for me to let you in. Bring Souh._  
  
With a smile, he watched as Akihito quickly drifted off to sleep.

  
~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~

  
Akihito stirred in his sleep as the early morning sun drifted through his window, a soft moan escaping his lips. It was so comfortable in bed he didn’t want to open his eyes and spoil the moment. He had had the most wonderful dream sometime during the night and he wished to recall the image of Asami slipping into his bed and wrapping him in his oddly gentle arms.  
  
Stirring again, the feeling of being weighed down by something brought Akihito’s mind fully awake. He opened his eyes only to be greeted by a rainbow of color. From his ceiling hung almost his entire collection of cranes, looped here and there, the ends of the chains dangling over the bed.  
  
He was so distracted by the riotous flock above his head it came as another shock to find himself weighed down, a man’s arm draped around him from behind.  
  
_Is this too much to ask?_ he thought. His hand moved of its own accord, his fingers trailing hesitantly over the arm he knew so well. _Am I dreaming?_ Taking care to not dislodge the arm wrapped so tenderly around him, Akihito rolled over.  
  
Golden eyes met his.  
  
A strangled sob escaped his lips.  
  
Tears of relief, tinged with sadness and regret, flowed freely.  
  
Asami pulled the trembling photographer closer, cradling his head against his chest. His hands gently ran through the boy’s hair. “Shhhhh,” he whispered. He didn’t know what to say. All he could do was hold his sobbing lover until his tears stopped. 

  
~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~

  
Akihito lay asleep in his arms again, exhausted from crying. Asami held him tightly, as if the boy would disappear the moment he let go of him. It felt so good to have the photographer back in his arms where he belonged. Kissing the top of the boy’s head, Asami swore he would never give Akihito reason cry like this again. War be damned. His boy was too precious to lose, which was why he sent him away in the first place. But looking at the way things were, the cranes, the anti-depressant pills on the nightstand… He realized he hadn’t spared Akihito any of the pain.

  
~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~

  
Akihito woke a second time, Asami’s arm still around him protectively. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered.   
  
“I’ve missed you too,” Asami kissed the top of his lover’s head.  
  
“Mmmmm,” Akihito snuggled closer, inhaling the scent he had missed for so long.   
  
Asami chuckled. Lifting the boy’s chin, he claimed Akihtio’s lips. The photographer gave in without a struggle, opening his mouth and allowing his tongue to tangle with the older man’s. “Mmmmmmm,” he moaned again. It had been far too long for either of them to taste each other and the kiss soon grew to a heated frenzy, neither wishing to stop with just their lips. Asami’s hands roamed over Akihito’s frail body.   
  
“You’ve lost weight,” he said as he kissed just below Akihito’s ear.  
  
“That’s not what I want to hear, bastard,” Akihito moaned as he leaned into those seductive lips, his hand tangling in his long-absent lover’s hair.  
  
Asami laughed. “I’ve missed this body so much,” he said teasingly. “You could have at least taken care of it enough to return it to me in the same condition as I left it.”  
  
“What?!” Akihito exclaimed as Asami’s finger finally found its way inside the boy’s tight, unused passage. Desire warred with anger. Was Asami teasing him? He realized he had missed that teasing, almost mocking attitude. But after being gone for so long, the photographer had to make sure. Pushing against Asami’s chest, Akihito managed enough leverage to push the man away from him, glaring at those damned arrogant eyes. He opened his mouth to protest only to moan in pleasure as Asami’s finger found that traitorous bundle of nerves.  
  
“Everything about you is precious, Akihito,” Asami said, kissing Akihito’s neck. Akihito trembled at the way his name sounded coming from those devilish lips, that seductive voice. “Your body,” Asami’s teeth nipped at the boy’s earlobe. “Your fire,” he kissed both of Akihtio’s eyes. “Your strength,” his lips pulled on one of the boy’s nipples and then the other. “Your stubbornness,” he ran his tongue around the photographer’s navel. “Your passion for life,” he nuzzled the base of Akihito’s erection, placing a chaste kiss at the bottom of his lover’s straining member. “Your very existence,” his warm, wet tongue darted out as he enveloped the boy’s erection.   
  
Akihito’s hips bucked. He cried out in passion. The stimulation of both his front and his back was too much to handle after not being touched for so long. That, combined with the words he had just heard, sent him into a frenzy. Could he really believe that Asami cherished him? That he wanted to be with him even after having not spoken to him in three years? Something was different about the yakuza, but in his current state it was all Akihito could do to remain coherent.  
  
Asami stopped his ministrations, pulling his fingers from inside his disheveled lover and releasing his painfully swollen erection from his mouth. Leaning forward to look Akihito directly in the eyes, Asami lined himself up with that delicate ring of muscles. “I wouldn’t have paid the price that I have the past three years if I didn’t love all of you.” With the last few words he pushed forward, claiming his surprised and almost incoherent lover.  
  
Akihito’s head flew back as he was stretched by the intruding member. The pain quickly turned to pleasure. Forgetting everything else, Akihito threw his arms around Asami’s shoulders pulling the man closer. Nothing mattered any more, not the pain, not the loneliness, not the cranes, not the pills as he gave himself over to the soul-consuming passion that flowed between them.

  
~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~

  
“Shit!” Akihito cursed as the doorbell rang. He didn’t want to get out of bed. Though they had stopped making love, at least for the moment, the boy didn’t want to spend one moment away from Asami. “I forgot to call in to work,” he said as he looked at the clock and pushed the covers aside as he sat up.  
  
“You’re going to work?” Asami asked.  
  
“No,” Akihito shook his head. “But Ine-san, my boss, treats me like one of his own kids. And I always call in if I can’t make it in so he must be worried.” There was a note of fondness in the photographer’s voice as he reached for Asami’s dress shirt, slipped it on and began buttoning it. “He probably sent Shimizu to check up on me.”   
  
“Shimizu… He’s the one that was here last night?” Asami pressed.  
  
Akihito nodded. “Yeah. He’s also the only one that would come over. Despite his stubbornness, he really is the only friend I’ve made in this place.” Gingerly, Akihito stood testing out his legs to make sure they were stable enough to make it to the door. The doorbell rang again. “I’ll just let him know that everything is fine and that I’m unable to go in to work today. If I don’t, he’s likely to get the building manager and ask him to open the door just to make sure I’m okay.”  
  
“And you’re going to answer the door dressed like that?” Asami asked skeptically as he watched Akihito pull on his boxers.   
  
Akihito looked down at himself and shrugged. “Don’t get jealous, bastard,” he said as he began pulling on his boxer shorts.

  
The doorbell rang a third time, impatiently.   
  
“Yes, yes,” Akihito called out as he exited the bedroom.   
  
Asami quickly put on his pants and went to stand in the doorframe of the bedroom half naked. He had to see how this was going to go down. That, and he didn’t want to let the sight of his lover wearing his shirt so temptingly out of his sight.   
  
Akihito opened the door forcefully. “What?” he asked, trying to keep his exasperation from his voice.

  
One look was all it took for Shimizu to completely understand the situation. “Uh… You… didn’t call in to work,” he stuttered. “Ine-san was worried.” A slow blush crept up the man’s face.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Akihito replied. “I’ll call Ine-san in a moment and apologize to him. I got distracted this morning and forgot to call in.”  
  
“Distracted?” Shimizu mimicked in a slightly dazed voice. He was trying, but failing, to not notice the kiss mark adorning his friend’s neck.   
  
Akihito nodded. “Since you’re here, there is someone I’d like you to meet,” he said, feeling the presence of his lover behind him. Asami had silently closed the distance between the bedroom and the front door. “This is Asami,” Akihito said as he leaned into the arm that snaked possessively around his waist. “He’s finally came to get me.”  
  
“Come to get you?” the other man asked.  
  
Akihito nodded again. “I’ll be going home, soon. He finally finished his business and surprised me last night. When he showed up, I forgot to call Ine-san to let him know I wouldn’t be in, today,” the photographer replied. “Thank you for coming to check on me. I’m sorry for worrying you and Ine-san. I’ll make sure to call him in a minute or two.” After a final goodbye, Akihito closed the door and went in search of his phone.  
  
“Calling your boss?” Asami said from behind as he leaned over to kiss the young man’s ear.  
  
“Yes,” Akihito replied as he tried to extract himself from Asami’s arms. “He really will worry if I don’t. Besides, I owe it to him since I stood him up for my shift, this morning.” 

  
Asami nodded. "When you’re done, you can tell me where the other cranes are."  
  
"Other cranes?" Akihito asked in confusion.  
  
"Yes. The other cranes," Asami replied. "There are a few missing. There weren't 1000 in the closet."  
  
"Oh..." Akihito breathed in realization. "I'll show you..." he said grabbing the older man's hands and led him back into the bedroom.

  
~ ≈ 川 ≈ ~


End file.
